Kansas
by jmr27
Summary: Season 7. Sam is having hallucinations. Dean knows he can't help, but he's got to try something. So he breaks his own rules and allows a dog into the car... Because Sam's always wanted a dog, and I think Dean would love to have one, too.
1. Chapter 1

"Sammy!"

Dean waggled a cold beer in front of his brother's nose, but there was no response. Sam's eyes were blank, staring at something only he could see, his left thumb rubbing over the scar on his right palm.

Dean sighed, settled into the chair next to Sam, and took a swig of his own beer, wishing he had something stronger. But Bobby had finished off the last bottle of whiskey and there wouldn't be more until the next grocery run.

The day was beautiful, the trees surrounding them coated in the reds and oranges of fall. The air was crisp and clear. Everything one could ask of the Montana mountains. It was something Sam, who liked to run and eat organic food, might pause to admire. But Dean knew that Sam wasn't seeing any of it.

Sam wasn't happily enjoying the cool afternoon, or the golden leaves. Sam was locked in a vision of Hell, and there wasn't anything Dean could do but wait. He hummed 'Back in Black' in his head. He made it through three choruses, and still nothing.

Finally, Sam blinked and dropped his hand.

"Oh, thanks." Sam snagged the beer and took a drink, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. As if he had no idea that he had been somewhere else for a good ten minutes.

It wasn't just the spacing out, either. Dean could see Sam's eyes flick sideways to look at empty space, the pause as he considered whatever vision presented itself, and the slight shake of the head as Sam turned away, deciding that what he saw wasn't real. Sam never said a word, and the whole process took less than a second, but Dean noticed. It happened far more often than he was comfortable with.

Dean leaned back in his chair with a frown and flexed his fingers. He liked simple problems with simple solutions. When the Impala had engine trouble, Dean could find the part that wasn't working and fix or replace it. But he couldn't pop the hood on Sam's brain and find the broken part.

He'd just have to find another way.

"Whatcha lookin' at there, Dean?" Bobby asked.

Dean blinked and looked up from the computer screen. The clock on the wall said he'd been at it for several hours. Bobby turned off the TV. Murder, scandal and terminal cancer had all played out in Spanish for the past hour, and Dean, who could name every character, hadn't seen a bit of it.

"Dogs," Dean muttered.

"What?" Bobby levered himself off of the couch and came over to look at the screen. Sam glanced up from his book, and Dean quickly shut the computer.

"Think I might have found a hunt." Dean grinned and flexed his leg, newly freed from its cast. "I've held still for too long. I'm hitting the road. After dinner." Dean eyed the pie sitting on the counter. Bobby had gone for groceries this time. They both agreed that until Sam stopped zoning out at random times, he shouldn't drive.

Sam closed his book. "Where are we going?"

Dean shook his head. "Not you, Sammy."

Sam gave Dean a Look. The one that said, "It's Sam, not Sammy." It also said, "I'm fine, I can handle it."

Dean held up his hand before Sam could follow the Look with an argument about his ability to hunt despite his hallucinations and black outs. "One of us needs to be here with Bobby, keep looking for something about those Leviathans."

"You know how busy the phones have been ever since they oozed their slimy way out of Purgatory," Bobby said.

Sam shrugged. "Alright." But his face said that he wasn't fooled, and he'd go off alone again if his brother didn't let him hunt soon.

Dean needed to be on the road as much as Sam. His feet were itchy. He ran his hand over the hood of the Impala and tossed his bag in the back seat. "Sorry it's been so long, Baby. Come on, we've got to go get something for Sammy. You might not like it. I know we'll be breaking the rules. But if this works, it'll be worth it."

* * *

He knew it was a good match as soon as he saw her. Slim torso, dark eyes, long legs, sharp black nose. The German Shepherd sniffed his hand curiously, then sat back on her hind legs and looked up at him with the same exact expression Sam used so often. Dean reached for her collar and saw the name stamped in the golden tag, and grinned. _Kansas_. It was perfect.

"Well, Kansas. You've been trained to take care of war vets with PTSD. I've got a brother with a similar problem. Sees the devil everywhere, and who knows what else that he won't talk about. Think you can help him?"

She looked at him with big black eyes, and then licked his face.

"Ga!" Dean pulled his head back and wiped his face with his sleeve. "Ok, but first we have to set a few ground rules. This is my car, Baby, I've got the back seat fixed up for you—Hey!"

Kansas jumped into the card and settled herself firmly in the passenger seat. She stared up at Dean with soft black eyes, daring him to comment.

"Right. You and Sam will get along great," Dean grumbled.

Sam was sitting on the porch when Dean pulled up. For a moment Sam stared at the open window. Dean glanced sideways. Kansas had her head pointed into the wind, tongue hanging out in true dog fashion. Sam blinked, shook his head, and rubbed his hand. Dean snickered quietly and opened the door for the dog.

"Go on, then. Go get him." Dean pointed Kansas toward Sam, who was looking at them both with furrowed brows. Kansas trotted up the porch steps and put her wet nose directly into Sam's hands. Sam, still rubbing at his scar, yelped at the interruption of wet nose, then warm fur under his skin. He blinked again, then rubbed Kansas' ears.

"You got a dog." He said it the same way someone would say, "I saw a pig fly."

"Yep." Dean hauled the giant bag of dog food and a fluffy dog bed out of the back seat.

"You don't like dogs." Sam stared at Dean, waiting for an explanation.

"You always wanted one." Dean nudged the door open with his toe and hauled the food and bed inside. When he came back to the porch, the dog's head was in Sam's lap, and the line of tension in his shoulders had eased.

"You let her ride in your car." Sam was still staring at Kansas, who had rolled over on her back to have her belly rubbed. "Seriously. You have two rules about the car, and the first one is, No dogs."

"I got a seat cover."

"What?"

"For the Impala. I got a cover for the back seat. So Kansas can sit back there."

"Kansas?" Sam looked down at the dog and fingered her collar. "Huh. How about we call you Sassy for short?"

"No, her name is Kansas."

Sam grinned. "So, Sassy, how long are you staying with us? Till we find you a new home?"

"Kansas," Dean said pointedly, "Is home. She's our dog now."

"Why-"

"Because of those ooze puddles we've got to deal with."

Sam sat back and stared at Dean, waiting.

"Well, they're just like shifter, right, except they don't have to shed their skin. But they can look like anyone. It's in all the lore, it's even in Terminator, dogs can tell the difference between real people and…other things."

"Huh. That's not a bad theory. But you bought a dog before you even tested to see if it would work?"

Dean shrugged. "I'm sure we'll find out soon enough." Dean pushed through the door, arms full of dog supplies.

Bobby stared. "I thought you were on a hunt. What's all that for?"

"Sam's dog." Dean handed Bobby the pamphlet about dog therapy for PTSD and whispered, "Don't let Sammy know." Then, louder, "She's our new Leviathan detector."

Bobby's eyes ran over the pamphlet. "You might've asked before you brought a dog to my home." But there was not bite in his bark today. Dean grinned and went to set up Kansas' food and water bowls.

* * *

There it was again. That slight flicker of Sam's eyes, the thumb rubbing on his scar.

Kansas hopped up from her bed and stuck her nose in Sam's hand, insisting on being petted. Sam smiled and leaned back, relaxed. Something about having a wet nose jammed into his hand seemed to help ground Sam in reality. It also brought him back when his mind tried to wander off without him.

Dean gave himself a mental pat on the back, then grabbed a Frisbee. "Come on, Kansas."

Kansas turned around and stared at Dean pointedly.

"Oh, come on. Kansas!" Dean waggled the Frisbee invitingly and kicked open the door with his toe.

Sam grinned and lunged out of his chair, snatching the Frisbee from Dean's hand. "Come on, Sassy girl!"

Kansas woofed enthusiastically and chased after Sam, the door banging behind them.

Bobby cackled on the couch. "You're losing that fight, son."

"Her name is Kansas."

Bobby just shook his head and laughed some more. Dean rolled his eyes and turned to follow the dog out the door. "Hey, gimme that Frisbee, girl!"

* * *

A week after Kansas' arrival, Dean announced, "Pack you bag, Sammy, it's time to go."

Sam looked up from the computer with a puzzled expression. Kansas, curled up under the table, sat up and place her head in his lap. "Go where? I've been searching all afternoon, and there isn't a hunt anywhere, unless you want to drive to Maine, but Bobby said he's already got someone on that one."

"This isn't a hunt. You're going back to school." Dean placed the PTSD pamphlet on the keyboard. "So you and Kansas-"

"Her name is Sassy."

"Kansas," Dean said firmly. "You and Kansas can work together better."

Sam picked up the pamphlet and read silently for a moment. "She's a therapy dog. Dean! I thought we agreed-"

"Yeah, no doctors, no medicine. But you and...Sassy...are getting along pretty well, right?"

Sam looked down at the furry head in his lap. He'd started scratching her ears without even realizing it. "Well, yeah."

"And she's helping with the hallucination thing? I mean, she knows when you're seeing Lucifer, right?"

Sam considered Kansas for a moment. "Yeah, actually. Every time."

Dean nodded smugly. "So, that's step one. But there's a lot more to learn. The course lasts for a month. You two pass, and we can hunt again."

"You think I've just got a simple case of PTSD?"

Dean shook his head. "No. I know it's not that simple. But I know you've been better since Kansas arrived."

"Her name is Sassy," Sam insisted.

Dean glared. "Her name is Kansas."

"She's my dog."

"I bought her."

Sam grinned and held up the pamphlet. "She's my therapy dog. I'm her boss, I decide what we call her."

"It's the name she came with! It's on her tags!"

"She answers to Sassy. Right, girl?"

Sassy gave a happy woof, then abandoned Sam for her food bowl.

"We leave in the morning." Dean didn't wait for an argument, just walked out the door as if it was all settled.

Sam went to pack his bags.


	2. Chapter 2

"So, is she your dog, or Dean's?" Bobby asked, passing Sam a beer and settling next to him on the porch.

Sam looked up from his computer to see Dean fling a Frisbee halfway across the yard. Sassy took off after it, snatched it out of the air with her teeth, and trotted back to Dean, tail wagging proudly. Dean wrestled with her for a few moments for possession of the Frisbee, then sent it flying again.

Sam grinned. "Oh, she's mine." He held out his hand and Sassy veered off from her Frisbee chase to put her wet nose in Sam's palm.

"Hey!" Dean gestured to the Frisbee, lying halfway across the park. Sam just shrugged and continued to pet the dog. Dean, grumbling, jogged after the Frisbee.

"That fluff ball can't keep me out forever, you know." Lucifer was sitting in the middle of the table, legs crossed, basking in the sun.

Sam buried his fingers deeper in Sassy's fur. Sassy glanced at the empty space, then licked Sam's face.

"Yuck!" Lucifer wriggled in disgust, but a moment later he was gone, the table empty.

Sam smiled at Sassy. "Good girl."

"Huh." Bobby sat back, taking a long pull on his beer. "That dog is really helping, ain't she?"

"Yeah. I mean, the hallucinations are hardest to ignore when I'm alone. But Sassy's always with me, even when Dean's not."

The slobbery, dented Frisbee landed on Sam's laptop. Dean lowered himself into a seat on the opposite side of the table and stole the rest of Bobby's beer.

"Any leads?"

"Got a series of missing persons out in Washington. Sounds like our kind of thing."

"Right, ready to hunt?"

Sassy barked loudly. Bobby's eyes widened. "You don't take her with you?"

"Sure we do." Dean went to the trunk and lifted out a small doggy vest with pockets for flashlights and salt bags. "Kansas, want to man the flashlight?"

Sassy jumped up, tail wagging, and shoved her face and shoulders into the harness while Dean fastened the buckles and inserted a flashlight into straps near her shoulders.

Bobby was unable to use his usual term of affection in response to this clever set up, so he just grunted and gestured to the empty beer bottles lying around the porch. "Don't forget to clean up your stuff before you leave."

"Go on, Kansas, fetch the beer bottles!" Dean gestured to the porch.

Sassy just sat and stared at Dean. Sam laughed. "Come one, Sassy, let's go pack."

000

Another monster dead, another day with the two of them in one piece. Dean considered that a success. He hauled is duffel out of the motel room and paused at the door. Kansas was still sprawled on the bed, belly up, clearly ready to sleep, not travel.

"Kansas! Come on, it's time to go!" Dean held the car door open and glared at the German Shepherd, who simply stared back, waiting.

Sam, sprawled in the passenger seat, grinned and called, "Sassy! Time to go."

Sassy jumped into the back seat, pausing to lick Sam's hand and receive an ear rub before settling into her nest of blankets.

Dean's face fell, but he closed the door without a word. Sam grinned wider. There were few arguments he could win with Dean, and he never stopped rubbing it in his brother's face that the dog had sided with him. Dean might have found her and brought her home, but she was Sam's dog, and she only responded to "Sassy" no matter how often Dean tried to assert her proper name.

"I'm ready to get out of this town. I say we grab some burgers and eat on the road." Dean turned the key and the engine grumbled to life as if to vote 'yes' to this plan.

Sam glanced down at his jacket, which was still bloody from their recent hunt. "No. I want a real bed."

Dean took a breath and Sam could see him gearing up for an argument.

"And there's a meeting tonight, you know, one of those support groups."

Dean let the breath out again. "Oh. Alright then."

Sam allowed himself a small, satisfied smile and, resisting the urge to rub his scarred hand, reached back and patted Sassy on the head.

"Well, there's no sense in hitting the motel until we're ready to crash. I'll wait at the bar." This was Dean's usual strategy; wait for the PTSD support group to end, and inevitably a few veterans would follow Sam there for a drink. Dean would spend a few hours trading war stories with them.

Of course they always had to use terms like 'terrorist' instead of 'vampire' and 'werewolf,' but it was almost as good as trading stories with hunters. Sometimes, Sam wondered if Dean enjoyed the 'support group' even more than him.

"Burgers first," Dean declared. He spotted a greasy-looking sign and pulled in, ordering a double cheeseburger, and a salad for Sam.

Sam put a bowl of food on the floorboards for Sassy. Sassy didn't even glance at it. She sat, completely still, eyes fixed on Dean, just where he could see her through the rear-view mirror.

"No." Dean bit into his burger.

Sassy whined anxiously.

"Hey, why don't you ask Sam for the chicken on his salad, huh?"

Sam grinned into his romaine and croutons. "She likes red meat, Dean."

"Well, she doesn't get my burger." Dean stared at the pleading eyes in the rearview mirror, and started the car again. He ordered two more burgers, without buns, and put the meat patties on Sassy's bowl, grumbling, "I don't know why I'm doing this, she's your dog."


	3. Chapter 3

**Note:** This is for my sisters, and to fulfill a birthday request, even though the birthday girl is currently cheating on Supernatural by attending a convention for a different fandom. Just a little drabble, a picture of life with the Winchester and their dog.

 **Disclaimer!** Song lyrics and Supernatural aren't mine. Kansas is all mine!

000

Music thumped through the car. A complex beat and the heavy thrum of an electric guitar vibrated the windows. Dean bobbed his head in time to the music. Sam, curled in the passenger seat with a book in his lap, shifted and glared sideways at his brother. Dean just grinned and sang louder, drumming the steering wheel. Sam huffed, but didn't waste his breath. It was an old argument, one he was tired of losing.

It didn't matter that Lucifer was all drumming away in time to Metallica, with a little plastic pitchfork that matched the little plastic horns he was wearing on his head. His timing was off, but of all the things he could do, it wasn't so bad. Sam was used to tuning out music he didn't want to hear.

The sounds of Metallica faded away, to be replaced by Meatloaf crooning about love. Dean rolled his eyes, but didn't change the station. In twelve minutes, something better would come on. Every other station on this stretch of road was either pop and hip-hop, or jazz.

Rooooo! Rooo! Rooo!

An off key warbling rose from the back seat. Sam raised his head and met Dean's eyes, then they both turned to the scene behind them. Kansas was sprawled across the back seat, a chew toy abandoned between her paw, her head flung back, crooning along to the song.

Roo! Roo! Rooo!

"I would do anything for love but I won't do…"

"Roooooooooo!"

Even Sam winced. Dean reached his hand toward the radio to change the station, but Sam blocked him.

"She's happy."

"She can't carry a tune, Sam!" Dean could feel his ears beginning to throb.

Sam looked at the backseat. He knew there was only a dog there, as far as Dean could tell. But he saw something far better. The devil dropped his pitchfork and clapped both hands over his ears in pain.

"Noooo! Make it stop."

Sam couldn't help but giggle. It was the first time he had seen Lucifer uncomfortable in any way. The sight left a smile pasted on his face that wouldn't fade for days.

Dean's eyes flickered between Sam and the empty space, then back. The smile was new. Somehow, the balance in Sam's head was shifting. Dean scratched at his ear. A busted ear-drum was a small price to pay for a smiling brother.

The song wasn't that bad. Really, if Dean was honest with himself, he'd wanted to do exactly what Sassy-no, Kansas! He'd wanted to do exactly what Kansas was doing for years now. After all, he knew the words, every single one of them.

"Would you hose me down with holy water when I get too hot!" Dean belted out.

"Make it stop!" Lucifer howled.

Sam laughed so hard tears came out of his eyes.

"Come on, Sammy!"

"Oh, I can do that!" Sam wailed along with the radio and Kansas' volume rose higher and higher.

Dean cringed. Sam's questionable pitch escalated the din inside the car to nails-on-chalkboard level. Yep, it was the best sing-along they'd ever had, and they didn't stop until the last over-bearing eighties harmonies died away. When they did, Dean was ready. He popped a tape in and pressed play. A sharp beat an a canine chorus exploded around them.

"Who let the dogs out!"

Dean pointed to Kansas for her cue, and was met by silence and the sound of the dog slobbering all over her chew toy.

"Aw, come on!"

Sam grinned, and fed the dog a Beggin' Strip. "That's my good Sassy-girl."


	4. Chapter 4

**Note: I think Sassy would add something special to the holidays...**

Usually, the Winchesters prepared for holidays ahead of time. They made sure that their hotel room had a fridge and microwave, and bought a bucket of fried chicken or something the day before. But the hunt had taken too long, and they wouldn't make it back to Bobby's for another day. They were tired and hungry, and every restaurant was closed. Expect one.

The Denny's sign glowed yellow and welcoming, a beacon to all who did not cook.

Besides, Dean had decided that they deserved a treat. A lot of bad had been coming their way lately. They deserved a proper meal. His mouth watered at the prospect. There was just one small task to complete, before they could leave the parking lot.

"We're gonna get you a real turkey dinner with all the fixin's. Gravy, mashed potatoes, you name it, they got it. And afterwards, we'll have pie." Dean's grin was huge, and he stretched out his arms, a red vest that read, "Working dog. Do not touch," poised to slip over Kansas' head. The dog barked happily and danced away from Dean. He tipped forward, barely catching himself before his nose hit the cement.

"Hey! Kansas!"

Sam laughed and shook his head. "Sassy thinks that's the hunting vest, and she's done for the day." He rubbed Sassy's head affectionately. "You did a good job, girl."

Dean scowled. "I want my dinner."

Sam took the vest and knelt beside his dog. She looked up at him with big, tired eyes. "Hey, girl, I know. We're all tired and we're done for the day, I promise. See, this is the other vest." He held it up for her to inspect, then slowly slipped it over her head. "Good girl, Sassy. You ready to eat?"

Sassy barked happily. Sam grinned at Dean, who scowled, huffed, and walked toward the restaurant doors.

The waiter didn't even raise an eyebrow at the sight of the dog at Sam's side. The red vest usually stopped anyone from complaining.

Their waitress was a teenager wearing shiny earrings that dangled to her shoulders, and cotton-candy pink nails. She had an eager look in her eyes. She was probably working the crappy shift in hopes of holiday tips to fund more colorful additions to her wardrobe. Dean knew the type. Once, he would have tried to hit on her. Now, she just looked like a kid. He shivered at the thought.

Am I getting old?

"Ohhh!" The waitress squealed at the sight of the dog sitting quietly by the table. "Aren't you beautiful! Such as sweet doggie." She reached forward, intent on scratching Sassy's years.

"Hey." Dean's voice was sharp. "What are you doing?"

The waitress drew her hand back, pouting. "I was just going to pet her."

Sam raised a calming hand and explained, "She's a working dog. If you pet her, you distract her, and she can't do her job. Never touch or talk to a dog with a working harness on."

"Oh-but, you're not blind." The waitress frowned at Sam.

"There are other types of working dogs," Dean snapped. "We'll have three turkey dinners, all the trimmings."

"No!" Now it was Sam's turn to snap. "Dean, all that starch is bad for Sassy. You have to stop feeding her table food."

"Sam, it's the holiday! I'm not gonna feed her dry dog food while we feast!"

"We'll get her a can of something nice on the way to the motel."

"Everything is closed today, Sam."

Sam's brow furrowed, and he looked up at the waitress. "Can you bring us a few slices of turkey breast, without any gravy or spices on it?"

"Sure." The waitress nodded and went to give their order to the kitchen, casting a longing glance back at didn't take long for her to return with a tray full of steaming food. Both Winchesters sat up a little straighter.

"So, you're not blind. What's wrong with-I mean-what have you got that you need a service dog for?" The waitress asked, placing a full plate in front of Sam.

Behind her, Lucifer tapped his chin thoughtfully. "What's wrong with Sam? Where do I start?"

Sam swallowed hard, eyes wide. "Uh-" Sassy put a paw in his lap, and Lucifer vanished. Sam looked down at her with a sad smile.

"You aren't allowed to ask him that." Dean's voice broke the awkward silence.

"Oh. Sorry." The waitress dropped her eyes and scuttled away.

Sam lowered the plate full of turkey to the floor for Sassy and buried his hand in her fur. "Good girl. You didn't have to be rude to her, Dean. Most people are curious."

"Yeah, but there isn't anything wrong with you." Dean's voice was still heated, and now he glared at Sam. "You know that, right?"

Sam kept his eyes fixed on Sassy, who was distracted by her plate of turkey. "It's ok, Dean. I've always been different. I'm used to it. Besides, she is allowed to ask what Sassy does for me."

"Yeah, well, that's not what she asked." Dean took a deep breath before turning his attention down toward his gravy-drenched plate. There was no sense allowing a bad waitress to ruin good food. "Happy Thanksgiving, brother."

Sam finally looked up, and met Dean's eyes with a smile. "Happy Thanksgiving."

000

As soon as they got themselves into a motel room, Dean flipped the TV on to the nearest sports station. A football game was in progress. Thanksgiving, Christmas or New Years, it didn't mater. Football was America's holiday game, and Dean was always happy to uphold his national traditions. Sam didn't usually mind. He enjoyed a good game. But he found himself absently rubbing the scar on his hand.

There was something about the quiet moments that invited images, unbidden, into the corners of his vision. Today, he saw nothing, but he could hear them. Distant screams, the cackle of flames, the rattle of chains. He accepted a beer from Dean and tried to focus on the game.

Sassy stretched out on the floor between their beds, eyes drooping. She'd had a long day and deserved a rest. Sam didn't want to bother her. After all, the dog did deserve a break, now and then. It didn't matter that Lucifer never took a day off.

"Why is it called 'football,' anyway?" Lucifer put his head in front of the TV, staring at the tiny figures running across the green field.

"Whoo! Did you see that!" Dean raised his hands over his head, pumping his fists.

"Yeah, nice play," Sam said.

Dean turned to frown at his brother. "You ok?"

"Fine." Sam turned away from the TV and reached for his laptop. "I think I'll work on some research. We still need to find away to fight these Leviathan."

"It's a holiday, Sam. We've got the day off."

"Yeah." Sam rubbed his hand, then grimaced and deliberately let go. Too late, Dean had seen the twitch. He glanced at Sassy, but she was sound asleep. She twitched, and let out a sound between a whistle and a snore. Sam shook his head. "It's fine, let her sleep."

"Ok." Dean frowned at the TV, then switched it off. "You know, you always used to ask me questions about Mom at the holidays."

"Yeah, I remember that. You never wanted to talk about her, you or Dad."

"Yeah, well, maybe we should have. I mean, you should know about her."

Sam glanced at his brother, and saw that Dean was cradling and old photograph in his hands. "Do you really want to do this?"

"Yeah. I mean, I didn't want to say anything before because I didn't want you to be jealous. Mom made an awesome turkey. It didn't seem right to talk about it when you couldn't taste it."

Sam grinned, and the sounds of hell retreated. "That good, huh?"

Dean grinned. "That good. It took hours to cook. Mom had to put it in the oven right at breakfast time, and you could smell it through the whole house. I would be begging her for food all day, just because I could smell it. She made Dad take me out to the park in the morning. Wouldn't let us come back until the food was ready. Dad would usually try to sneak something early, anyway. He never got anything past her."

"It sounds nice."

"Yeah, it was." Dean paused, staring into the distance. "Mom hated football, though. Dad would turn on the game, and she would spend the entire afternoon arguing with him about how old I had to be before I could play."

Sam leaned back, listening, the borrowed memories draping over him like a shield. Dean kept talking, pausing every now and then when Sassy snored. Sam closed his eyes. He didn't even remember falling asleep. He dreamed of turkey, and two small boys watching their mother cook in the kitchen, a protective German Shepherd wagging her tail between them.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hunt**

The engine coughed and sputtered as Dean slowed the latest P.O.S. car to park on the curb. Dean glared at the smoke coming up from under the hood, and behind them, Sassy howled mournfully.

"You and me both, girl," Dean said.

Sam shrugged. "We'll be changing cars before we leave town anyway."

"Yeah." Dean's answer was little more than a grunt. He'd been grumpy ever since they had left the Impala behind. Especially after a drive. "I hope we find this monster tonight." He went to the trunk and started checking weapons.

Hopefully, tonight's kill would help settle him down. If they could even find this thing. Sam looked over at the park that was tonight's hunting ground. A playground stood in one corner, children running wild across the lofted platforms and parents milling around below. Behind the playground was a stand of trees criss-crossed with trails. The sun was just starting to set, and most people were on their way out. The trails should be mostly empty.

Which was good, because this monster was going to be especially tricky to take down. It could look like anything, but wasn't a shape shifter. No, this was a chemeleon. It lived in trees, and had a scaly hide that could change the way light refracted off of it. It would pretend to be part of a tree, or a person. "Just like that blue chick in X-Men," as Dean had put it.

This left them with no other strategy than to walk through the chameleon's hunting grounds, hoping to catch the thing chomping down on its next victim in time to get a kill shot before it vanished again.

The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the landscape. There were few joggers left on the trail, and therefore fewer witnesses to interfere with the chameleon's dinner. Perfect hunting time.

Sam grabbed an iron bar out of the trunk for good measure. Silver killed shifters, iron killed chameleons. Sassy sat back on her haunches, looking up at him with big brown eyes. He didn't know how she could tell when he was worried, but she always knew. He wasn't hallucinating at the moment, but that didn't matter. Sassy rubbed her muzzle against his knee Sam reached down to scratch her ear.

"Everything ok?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, I just-how do we know when we've found this thing? It can look like anyone. We just have to wait until it kills again?"

"Well, the lore did say the chemeleon can look like a human, but can't act very human. It walks all stiff and wobbly, and can't really talk. It was born an animal, it's not like a vampire or werewolf that used to be human. So, if you see anyone acting unusual-" Dean held up an iron nail and made a slashing motion. They could skin-test just like they did with shifters, to see if the metal burned the person's flesh.

"Right." Sam reached into the trunk to grab a nail. "Anything unusual."

That defined all of the 'extra' things he had been seeing lately. Lucifer was easy to identify as fake. Other things weren't so cut and dried.

"Unusual?" Lucifer's voice whispered in Sam's ear. "I can do unusual. Wanna see?"

Across the street, a mother was loading her child into the car. She paused, placed her hand in the door, and slammed it shut until her wrist smashed and her fingers bled. Sam blinked, and all traced of blood were gone, the woman pressing her lips to her infant's forehead before climbing into the driver's seat.

A pair of young girls skipped past, each holding onto a balloon covered in a cloud of flies and maggots. They chattered cheerfully to each other, a second glance showed two Dora-the-Explorer balloons floating harmlessly over their heads.

Unusual. Sam sighed and pressed his hand into Sassy's fur. "Are you coming with us, huh girl?"

"I'm hoping she can help us flush this thing out. Maybe she can smell the difference, you know?" Dean held out the hunting harness, and Sassy walked forward to put her head through the straps, tail wagging.

Sam didn't know if she liked hunted, or she just liked being able to run. As soon as Dean clipped the last strap, Sassy shot away, across the street and toward the tree line. She ran back toward them, then back toward the tree line, each lap a little shorter as the brothers caught up.

The trail immediately branched in two directions. According to the map, it was one long loop that circled the entire park, two miles long. Dean nodded to the left fork. "See you in twenty minutes."

"Yeah." Sam veered right without breaking stride and dodged around a biker exiting the trees. The man looked right at him with eyes made of pure flame. Sam swallowed, and glanced at Sassy. She trotted on ahead, and hadn't noticed a thing.

Unusual.

Sam focused on Sassy. Her tail streamed out behind her, wagging, and she sniffed at the base of every tree and bush she found. She wandered back and forth across the path, and Sam knew that she was real. She was able to tell what was human, and what was not. So he ignored the jogger that trotted past, despite the extra hand sprouting from his head. He ignored the mother pushing a stroller, even though to his eyes the infant was actually eating its own toes. He ignored the bike brigade-three children cycling behind their father like a line of baby ducks following their mother. The chains around their necks, linking them together, had to be a gift form Lucifer, nothing more. Everyone was hurrying home as dark closed in.

They all passed Sam by without a second glance, and Sassy passed them without bothering to sniff or bark. She knew her job. She, too, was looking for something unusual. Ever since the first vampire kill, Sassy had seemed to know that Sam and Dean needed to find the things that weren't human. The things that smelled different.

They continued on for several feel in silence, the trail now empty.

Another jogger came into view, except he walked directly out of a tree instead of around the corner. Sam glanced at Sassy, but she was busy with a bush. He looked back at the jogger, who flashed him a smile full of shark teeth. Sam pressed at the old scar on his palm, but the teeth didn't go away. The jogger closed in, grin growing broader. He walked with a stiff gait, as if his knees didn't quite want to bend right.

If he took the shot now, he could take the chameleon out without a fight. In two seconds, the monster would be close enough to use those teeth. If it was a monster, and not just a jogger.

"Sassy?"

Sassy's head snapped up. She sniffed the air, then darted between Sam and the oncoming jogger. Her chest rumbled, the beginnings of a growl. The jogger veered sideways, pushing Sassy out of the way with one strong sweep of his leg. Sassy crashed sideways with a shrill cry, and Sam whipped out his gun.

 _Oh no you didn't_. The other man had to be a monster. Right? Sam's finger froze on the trigger. He just wasn't sure.

The jogger didn't spare a second glance for the gun. He didn't slow down, didn't veer away. His smile just grew wider and claws slid out of his fingers. He raised his hand as if to wave. Sam ducked, and pulled the nail out of his pocket with his free hand. He rolled under the jogger's attacking arm and pressed the nail to his exposed neck.

The jogger hissed, and his eyes turned a reptilian green. He lashed out again, and Sam felt the sharp bit of claws piercing flesh. He jerked away and saw the angry red burn mark where the nail had touched the man's skin. The _chameleon_ 's skin.

A fist full of claws caught Sam in the side and he staggered backwards, all of the air knocked out of his lungs. It felt like being hit by a two-by-four. This thing was strong. Sam gasped and struggled to stand upright. The chameleon steppe closer. His image was rippling, alternating between sweat-stained t-shirt and scaly skin. There was no one to watch, so the chameleon had no more need to hide.

Sassy's growl rose from a low rumble to a fierce roar, and she launched herself at the chameleon. Her teeth sank into his arm and she pulled with all her might, swaying back and forth, trying to drag him off balance. The chameleon raised his claws to strike. Sam braced his arm and fired two shots directly into its heart. The monster collapsed with a low hiss and lay still. Sassy pawed at the corpse, but it didn't move again.

Sam felt his butt hit the ground and leaned forward to put a hand on Sassy's head. "Hey, girl. It's ok. He's dead." He let her fur tickle his hand and buried his face in her back, shuddering. One wrong move, and he could have lost her. Those claws could have ended Sassy with one swipe.

They had talked about it, he and Dean, late one night. They needed to hunt. They couldn't stop with the Leviathan threat now loose. But Sam needed Sassy. She was part of their family, part of their lives, and so she shared their danger. Did she know the risk? Sam looked into her eyes, and she looked back, calm and steady. Would she care?

Footsteps pounded on the pavement, and Dean came into view, gun ready. He stopped when he saw the dead chameleon, and then was kneeling at Sam's side. His hands pressed on the deep scratches in Sam's shoulder, making Sam wince.

"We need to stop the bleeding." Dean pulled a bandage out of one of his many pockets and pressed it to Sam's shoulder. "But it's nothing that a few stitches won't fix. Looks like you got him."

"Kansas got him. She saved me."

Dean gave the monster a sharp glance. "Yeah?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah." They both paused to pet their furry companion, and Kansas' tail wagged faster, thumping them both in the face.

Dean sneezed and spit dog fur from his tongue. "Blech. Right. Burgers for everyone, then. After stitches."

Sassy barked happy agreement. Sam flashed a triumphant smile at Lucifer, who perched on a tree branch across the path. He had his brother, he had Sassy. As long as that was true, he would be ok.

o0o

Dean stretched back in his bed, his belly full and his head pleasantly buzzed with beer. Sam was sprawled across his bead, his half-eaten burger forgotten on the nightstand, his eyes dropping. Sassy's bowl was empty and she licked her lips happily. Another job done, another meal conquered. No need to move again until the sun announced morning had come.

Almost. Sassy hopped to her feet and began to trot in small circles in front of the door. Sam lifted his head from his pilled and started to roll forward, but Dean held out his hand.

"I just put twenty stitches in you. I'll take her."

"Thanks." Sam didn't argue, just let his head flop back on the bed. He was snoring before Dean had even opened the door.

Sassy marched purposefully across the parking lot to the small strip of grass between the motel and the Gas n' Sip. She examined several bushes before finding an adequate patch of grass to do her business. Dean settled down on the curb and sipped on what was left of his beer. Sam's words echoed in his head.

" _She saved me."_ Which meant that Sam had needed saving. From something a simple as a chameleon. It wasn't a good sign.

"So, Kansas. How's my brother doing, really?"

The dog turned to sniff the grass behind her, then continued her examination of the bushes.

"Something happened back there today, and Sam's not talking."

Sassy turned to Dean, eyes gleaming in the moonlight. She cocked her head, as if considering his words. Dean shook his head and took another drink of beer. He waggled his fingers and Sassy trotted over to be petted. Dean ran his hand along her back, then took her chin in his hand so he could look her straight in the eye.

"I'm trusting you here. If Sam starts having problems I can't see, you'll find a way to tell me, right?"

Sassy responded by licking his face.

"Right." Dean ran his hand down her back again. "When we meet Scooby Doo, he can give you a few pointers in communication department, huh? Come one, time for bed."


	6. Chapter 6

**Just a bit of fluff...**

He was surrounded by flames. They licked at the air, an oven without walls or floor. Metal pierced his flesh. Hooks held him in place. A knife filleted his skin. A rough voice crooned softly with pleasure as he twitched. "You can get off, Dean. You can make all of this stop. You know how."

Moisture spread across his face. It was soft and smelled of…dog. The dream faded, his hands were free, and Dean reached up to catch Sassy by the ears to stop her from licking his face.

"Kansas! We talked about this."

Kansas flicked her tongue, showering his face with more saliva. She huffed, let out a low bark, and pawed at the sheets.

"Hey." Dean scrubbed at his face and sat up, suddenly worried. The room was quiet, too quiet. "What's wrong? Sam?"

On the other bed, Sam was utterly still. His limbs were spread across the mattress, a relaxed pose, and his chest slowly rose and fell. He twitched at the sound of Dean's voice. It wouldn't be hard to rouse him; he always responded to his brother's call. But Dean swallowed his voice. Sam was sleeping quietly. Peacefully. It was a rare sight these days, and Dean had no desire to disturb him.

He turned his attention back to the dog. "What's going on, girl?"

Kansas pressed her nose into his face one more time, then turned herself in a small circle on his bed and collapsed in a heap wedged snugly against Dean's side.

They had talked about this. He had trained her on this her first week. Dogs were allowed on Sam's bed, not Dean's. Kansas had gotten the message quickly. Besides, she knew she was here for Sam. She was always at his side.

Not that he needed her tonight.

Kansas looked up at him with big, dark eyes and let out a low whine. Her muzzle inched up his arm, begging to be petted.

Dean had seen her do it a thousand times with Sam. It was her job. Sam was her job.

What was she doing on Dean's bed?

"I'm not going back to sleep, Kansas. Get off me." Dean gave her a shove, but she didn't move. Now it was his turn to let out a huff. If he pushed the issue, Kansas might start making more noise. That would wake Sam, and Dean was not going to interfere with his brother's good sleep.

Dean was also definitely not going to sleep. Hell didn't haunt his dreams as often as it used to, but it had never really left him. If he closed his eyes again, he'd be right back in the middle of it.

Dean's throat was dry. The night was cool, but he was drenched with sweat and he needed something to whet his whistle. Take the edge off the memory. Keep the world a bit blurry. He reached for the flask on the bedside table, a sure remedy. The burn of the liquor was so unlike the flames of Hell. Self-inflicted damage so much better than being at a demon's mercy. He lifted the flask to his lips.

Kansas set her teeth in his sleeve and tugged. Dean shrugged her away. She lifted her head and let out a warble somewhere between a warning and begging. Dean frowned and pulled his flask close to his chest. Kansas whined and wriggled closer, her nose aimed at the flask.

"What, were you trained by AA too?" Dean held the flask at a safe distance, and caught sight of the beer cans out of the corner of his eyes. There were so many of them littering the table, but the brew within hadn't done its job. Nothing helped much anymore. His brother was broken, the world was about to be eaten, and his best friend was dead.

Kansas reared back, jumping with her front paws to make the mattress bounce. She whined again, as if she had been the one on the rack, not Dean.

"You are supposed to be taking care of him. Not me. I'm fine."

Kansas just stared at him.

"Ok, I'm not fine, but I don't need you." She was Sam's dog. Dean didn't need that kind of help. He looked at the flask again. The dog had a point; that stuff wasn't helping, either. With a sigh, he set the flask back on the bedside table.

"There, are you happy?" Dean picked up the remote instead. Keeping the volume low, he started flipping through channels. "Go back and sleep with Sam, unless you like watching girls in swimsuits…"

Kansas has lowered her head again, and was burrowing under his arm.

"You know, I don't allow dogs on the bed. It's a rule."

Dean's hand landed on Sassy's head, and she leaned into his fingers as she scratched her ears. He felt the tension between his shoulder's ease. His head fell back against the pillow, and Kansas snuggled closer.

It was nice.

No dogs in the car. No dogs on the bed. No dogs in my face. Dean had these rules for a reason. He didn't like the smell of dog breath. He didn't like dog fur on his shirt. None of that had changed, and yet he was ok with this. He needed this. How had this come to pass? Dean was not able to ponder the question.

He was fast asleep.


End file.
